


Turn the Page

by prairie_dust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, oh those crazy smartphones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5877205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairie_dust/pseuds/prairie_dust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had no idea how to start this conversation-- she wasn’t even sure she really wanted to. Except... except she kept opening her phone, fingers poised over the screen. Clearly, she wanted to start a damn conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn the Page

She thumbed open her phone for the fifth time and stared at the text screen.

A week had gone by since they’d killed the banshee at the retirement home.

She’d split immediately. Sam had said that the bunker was only a short drive from the little city of Oak Park, but she’d lit out of there like her tail was on fire.

Getting close to other hunters was so often an exercise in futility-- she and Lillian had lost more acquaintances than she could count over the years. Lillian had even said, any time they bumped into another hunter on a job, that hunters drifted in and out of the life all the time and that there wasn’t even much of a reason to learn their names.

Sometimes they would end up at a bar or a dive that was frequented by other hunters, trying to get a tip, a piece of lore, in rare instances a little on-the-job assistance, and would inevitably hear about the many other hunters who had lost their last fight that year.

And then she had lost Lillian... Her lifelong mentor and only ally had died after just a few breathtakingly short weeks in hospice. She’d ignored the pains in her hip until it was far, far too late. There was no battle to be fought by the time she was diagnosed. Ovarian cancer is swift, silent, and deadly-- it was almost as quick as losing her to one of the monsters they hunted.

Almost.

After Lillian died, Eileen had thrown herself into case after case. Her life was research and destruction. She didn’t network with other hunters. Didn’t trust them, didn’t want to come to rely on anyone else ever again. Didn’t want to see another drink being raised in someone’s memory.

But Sam. Sam had been a hunter his whole life, like Eileen. He and his brother had survived longer than anyone she knew.

Sam was like her.

Growing up deaf, learning ASL from Sesame Street and library books, figuring out how to read lips off of Lillian and television, trying to keep her head above water at the mainstream schools that Lillian put her in, (only to yank her out weeks later,) she’d never quite fit in anywhere. When she was a teenager, she’d dreamed of getting out of the life, going to a school for the deaf for her last years of high school, but by then she felt like she didn’t belong to that world, either.

She was a hunter.

_Hi Sam, it’s Eileen. Just wondering how you’re doing._

She cringed, covering her burning face with her hand. She felt like a complete dork.

Highlight and cut. The words disappeared. She would be the only soul to ever know they’d even existed.

It wasn’t a comforting thought.

Keep in touch, Sam had urged her.

Keep in touch. Yeah, okay.

She had no idea how to start this conversation-- she wasn’t even sure she really wanted to. Except... except she kept opening her phone, fingers poised over the screen. Clearly, she wanted to start a damn conversation.

But. How?

She’d told Sam she wouldn’t answer if he called, which was sort of a joke. She’d not brought up the idea of texting at the time because, well... did she really want to keep in contact with the Winchesters?

Would she rather let this... connection, or whatever it was... with Sam evaporate into oblivion, or reach out and start a relationship-- a professional one, of course-- but risk having it abruptly severed by a hunt gone wrong?

_Hey Sam. This is Eileen. I know I joked about not calling me, but feel free to text._

That was worse.

That was way, way worse, she thought as she cleared the text field again.

Why did she want to reach out to him, exactly?

Because she’d been a little taken by the notion that the Winchesters were the new Men of Letters. And that she, too, was a legacy. That she had a stake in something bigger than running from job to job.

Sam had taken a few photos of pages from Lillian’s journal-- bits of lore that he’d never seen before. He had told her about the bunker, about the archives they’d inherited. How many times had she and Lillian nearly died because they hadn’t had some obscure but essential piece of information? How brilliant would it be to bring organization to the desperate, dismal chaos of the hunting life?

The bones were still there. Someone just needed to breathe life back into them.

She wanted that. She wanted to see that, to be that.

Did Sam? He and his brother had been sitting on the collected Men of Letters knowledge base for a couple of years now-- would they really share it with her?

Sam had seemed so open, though, and smart, and strong...

Not too many men could take getting bitched through a door like he had.

Tall. Good-looking.

She wanted that, too.

Eileen flushed again.

_Hey there, Stretch, what r u wearing?_

She deleted this with a giggle.

Except the words suddenly filled a green bubble.

No.

NO.

She’d tried to highlight the words in order to cut them, but had hit the send button by accident.

Every muscle in her body went on lockdown as she realized what she’d done.

Her back and scalp tingled as she broke out in a sweat.

Her heartbeat thudded behind her breastbone-- she felt her pulse pounding under her jaw.

The reply came quickly.

_Hi is this Eileen?_

Oh no. No no no. Tell him it’s not.

She hesitated. Tell him it was a wrong number.

What. Had. She. Done?

_If this is Eileen L then I’m glad to hear from you. And I’m still in my work clothes :)_

Play it off, Eileen, she told herself. Sam was taking it as a joke.

She groaned.

 _Are you on a job?_ she replied, screwing her eyes closed until her phone buzzed again.

_Was. Routine salt n burn._

_What’s a salt n burn? You mean ghost?_

_That’s what we’ve always called it._

Her heart was beating even harder. This was rapidly turning into a real conversation.

 _How are you? On a case yet?_ Sam asked.

She took a deep breath.

_No. Thought I had some revenants in Kentucky, turned out to be people looting graves for jewelry and guns._

She saw the blinking dots that meant Sam was replying.

_Do you know how many people are buried with their firearms? it’s insane._

_Right?_ she answered. _What a waste. At least we’ve never seen a ghoul sporting a sidearm._

_Lol._

Her breath caught. “Lol?” That was... slightly adorable.

Sam asked, _Where are you now?_

_Louisville._

_If you’re between cases you can always come visit the MoL headquarters._

She didn’t answer right away. Headquarters, huh? She looked around the camper. Tried to imagine having the same place to park it every night.

The dots bubbled again.

_I mean, I know it’s a long drive. Just a thought._

She smiled to herself. He was adorable.

_It’s tempting. I’d like to see it someday. But you can’t call it “men of letters” anymore if I come._

_People of Letters? Persons of Letters?_

_We’ll discuss it._ She winced again. Did that sound like flirting? Was flirting what she was just doing?

 _I’d love that,_ Sam answered.

She froze.

How far could she go? Did she just want to stay in touch every now and then? Make sure Sam wasn’t dead yet? Or did she want to see that bunker?

Did she want to see Sam?

She took a deep breath.

_I can be there in about 12 hrs._

_That would be great. We’re on our way back there. You still have the coordinates?_

She did. She had dropped a pin and saved it as part of Sam’s contact information. She knew without even having to look that it was a straight shot across I-70. Fast. Easy.

Plenty of time to change her mind.

_Yes I still have them._

_Good. We’re still about 8 hrs out. See you tomorrow night?_

_Yes see you then._

_:) Good night._

Another smiley face? Too adorable. She was on the brink of shutting down completely.

 _Good night,_ she replied.

Eileen set her phone down slowly and lay on her back in her bunk in the camper. Was that all they were going to say? Just, ‘good night’?

This time, yes. This time, there wasn’t much else to be said, no matter that she’d started the whole exchange with a creepy sext.

Good night, see you tomorrow.

Tomorrow, she’d see for herself what her grandfather had helped build.

Tomorrow, she’d see for herself if there was any future for her in it.

Tomorrow, she’d see Sam again, and then... then she’d just have to see.

She fell asleep quickly. She had a long day’s drive ahead of her.

Straight shot across I-70.

Fast and easy.

Like it was meant to be.

 


End file.
